I was a woman because the other girls knew nothing of the egg. The egg will always be revolutionary. It was truly a gif—turning from white to black. Yet grey, I was once asked? We are taught to do as children, not to tell the whole story. Drawn blood is easier to come by than the truth. Yes, even then we threw away half of it! But I finally persuaded her, begging her to lend me the salt of knowledge. We had already bathed when she told me that God forbids the other girls to see it. Even He tends to torment Himself by keeping mostly to Himself. Oh yes, it haunted the backyards of my childhood: I could scarcely bear to look, to listen!

I should have given the pen to you.

He avoided my eyes when he suggested I should see a shrink. He really suggested I should! Half-cooked chicken, eggs, and all the while believing it belongs to me and to others. And although completely wild, (you would know this if you looked in my wardrobe), she still retreated before the impossible. But things only come when desired, like showers of spring with a breeze. Alas, in the cruel moment the tone of voice would appear, and no one knows but a chosen few, but this music is the pillar of society.